A Bride at Last

by Melissa Jagears

  Kate pulled her coat collar closer to her throat, the wind battering her from the other side now as well. Too bad Silas didn’t have a covered wagon. What if she used her two hundred dollars to buy him a carriage? No, he needed a farm wagon first and whatever else had been stolen from him that needed replaced.

  Or maybe she could get Mr. Thissen to give Silas back his land.

  Silas disappeared into the schoolhouse, and she shivered again. She should’ve gone with him or at least had him help her down so she could shelter beside the wagon somewhat.

  She hooked her newly booted feet into the wagon wheel’s spokes and climbed down.

  Just as she leaned against the wagon’s side out of the wind, the schoolhouse door slammed and Silas rushed down the stairs like a charging bull, his head swinging one way, then another.

  Her body seized. “What’s wrong?” she asked once he was closer.

  Silas hastened to her and held out his hand to help her climb back up. “He didn’t show up today.”

  “What?”

  “The teacher doesn’t know where he is.” He ran around the back of the wagon and yanked himself up onto the seat. “I thought we were good.” He strangled the reins as he turned his team and started them toward town. “After Thanksgiving, he’d been quiet, stopped being rebellious. I thought that was an improvement.”

  “So you think he’s run again?” She grabbed on to her seat as the wagon jolted forward.

  “Why else wouldn’t he be in school?”

  She scanned the sidewalks. Though if he’d not come to school that morning . . . “Has he missed school before? Maybe he went looking for snakes.”

  “It’s too cold for snakes.” Silas’s jaw was as hard as Anthony’s attitude had been the last few times she’d seen him. If only the boy wasn’t so fool stubborn, his anger would’ve melted away as he watched them get married this afternoon. But Silas was right—he’d seemed happy at Thanksgiving. Surely there was some other explanation.

  She latched on to Silas’s arm, willing him to slow as she dug her fingers into his muscle. “Maybe he thinks he can find snakes anyway. We can look around the ponds and the creek near your place. Did the teacher mention anybody else missing?”

  He shook his head. “Didn’t think to ask.”

  “Maybe he’s with a friend. Do you know of any boys he’s bonded with?”

  “He talks about the Harrisons and the Moores down on Mud Creek.”

  The wagon veered sharply next to the church, yet he didn’t turn into the yard.

  Her heart sank. There would be no wedding.

  Oh, Anthony. Why did you run again?

  Wait. She clenched onto Silas’s tense arm. “I don’t think he’d run with me still in town.”

  She waved apologetically at Mrs. Graves, who gave them an evil glare from the sidewalk, likely for going too fast—or maybe sitting too close.

  “Then what do you think?” Silas skirted the ice wagon and swung around a slow-plodding carriage.

  She swallowed, wishing she didn’t have to voice the thought that was turning her stomach. “Maybe Richard wanted Anthony badly enough to come out here to get him? I didn’t think to hide where I was going when I bought my train ticket.”

  “No.” Silas shook his head, his eyes glazing. “Surely not.”

  “Hey! Watch out!” A man jumped out of the way as Silas’s wagon wheel missed him by inches.

  “Sorry!” she yelled over her shoulder. Then she turned and squeezed Silas’s arm with both hands. “Be careful. Getting us killed won’t help us find him.”

  But then, if it hadn’t been for Myrtle, they’d not have found him when he ran away in Missouri. What hope did they have of finding him this time?

  Chapter 23

  The cold wind followed Silas inside the crowded sanctuary. Several people turned to look his way, but not a single face gave him any hope. Sure it was a blessing to have so many people help search this time around, but the inevitable “There’s nothing more we can do but pray and keep our eyes open” speech would only come that much sooner.

  He trudged toward the front and slumped onto the first pew, trying not to listen to the worried murmuring filling the room.

  Kate’s cold hand slipped into his. Where had she come from? He squeezed her fingers harder than he ought, but with Anthony gone and the two hundred dollars in her possession, what if she was rethinking her decision to marry him? Would he lose her again, this time for something out of his control?

  Over the last two days, they’d knocked on doors and walked across pastures with about a hundred Salt Flatts’s citizens—plenty of time for her to rethink things.

  He let go of her and jammed his fingers into his hair and squeezed a handful, pulling at his scalp. What should they do next? Salt Flatts was tiny compared to Breton; they’d combed every corner of the town already. The world was too big to search every field and tree and farmstead, though he just might try.

  Someone sat on his other side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Reverend Finch’s solemn face.

  Then Will sat down on the pastor’s other side.

  Great. They were about to tell him what he was trying not to think about.

  “I’m sorry, Silas.” Reverend Finch’s slim hand squeezed his shoulder. “No one’s come in with any information.”

  He shook his head, wishing he wasn’t too old to plug his ears with his index fingers.

  “Perhaps Miss Dawson’s suspicion about the boy’s former pa needs to be explored more fully.”

  Will leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and peered around the reverend. “Have you received any telegrams in response to the ones you’ve sent?”

  Silas rubbed his brow. “The Hartfield sheriff said Richard’s wife claims he’s in town, but he didn’t personally see him. And since there is nothing but suspicion on our part, he wasn’t planning on doing anything more than that.”

  “All he’s willing to do is ask Mrs. Fitzgerald about Anthony and accept whatever response she gave?” Kate’s voice cracked.

  He squeezed her hand as if he could keep her from despair. “Apparently.”

  The double doors behind them sucked the body heat from the room. Silas turned to see the last group of men come into the sanctuary—without Anthony.

  Will’s pa, Dex Stanton, the tallest of the bunch, caught Silas’s eye and shook his head.

  The reverend stood and cleared his throat. “Thank you, everyone, for looking again today. My wife put several pots of hot cider over on the communion table. Warm up before you head home. For those available tomorrow morning, we’ll meet at eight to discuss where else to look. And of course, we’ll pray at tomorrow night’s meeting.”

  Silas pushed himself up and forced a smile. “Yes, thank you for taking time from your jobs and families to help us look. I’m grateful.” But he couldn’t bear to listen to each of them offer their condolences, so skipping the hot cider, he strode quickly through the empty pews toward the pastor’s office. Once inside, he dropped into the cushioned chair he’d sat in many times after Lucy had left, when he’d struggled to let go of the anger he’d fortified with liquor.

  The door swung open, and he sighed, though he’d not mind Kate or even Will. But Dex Stanton ducked to enter the cramped office. Behind him, his youngest son, John, ducked under the doorframe as well. The boy was barely a man, yet he’d beaten his father’s uncommon height by an inch.

  Dex’s cheeks were still red from cold, his frown still as hopeless as when he’d stepped into the sanctuary minutes ago. “I’m sorry we haven’t found him, Silas.”

  This was exactly why he’d tried to escape into the pastor’s office. How many times could he respond to the unnecessary apologies before he snapped?

  Taking off his hat, Dex managed a smile. “My daughter Becca’s got all the kids giving up their recess to pray for Anthony—thought you’d like to know that.”

  John cleared his throat. “Miss Dawson said you’re going to Missouri. Is that correct?”


  As much as he hoped the sheriff would do more than ask Richard’s wife a question, he’d seen how little the Breton sheriff had done to find Anthony a month ago. If Richard had indeed abducted Anthony, the only person who’d care enough to actually look was him. But who could he leave his homestead with this time and have any hope of having a farm worth coming back to?

  “I want to, but I’m not sure how.” Of course he had to go, even if he had to beg an outlaw to use his place as a hideout. But what if he didn’t have enough money to survive once he came back?

  Kate came in from behind them. “I checked the train schedule earlier. There’s one leaving in an hour.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I couldn’t possibly go in an hour.”

  “I’ve already packed for you.”

  Dex’s face lit with amusement. “You snagged yourself a bossy one.”

  Kate’s eyes narrowed.

  Silas sent her a warning glance. “If you don’t want to be teased, you should probably ignore anything that comes out of his mouth.”

  “But what fun is there in that?” Dex winked at Kate, before turning back to Silas. “But in the interest of time and seriousness, John and I talked about him watching your place. I don’t need much help this month, so he can stay out there for a week or two.”

  Silas closed his eyes and let the tension in his shoulders melt. He trusted John. The boy had grown up homesteading, and being the only Stanton boy interested in farming, he was building himself a place near his parents to help expand the property and take over one day.

  “However, I must warn you. He’ll empty your cupboards,” Dex added.

  The seventeen-year-old rubbed his belly. “I hope you have plenty of bacon.”

  “That’s about all he knows how to cook.” Dex laughed. “So your jerky, crackers, preserves, and whatever else you got that don’t go in the oven or a skillet will need restocking once you come back. We think that’s the real reason he’s not finished his cabin—can’t have his ma cook for him way out there.”

  “Oh no, even when I finish, I’m coming over for supper. That is, until I convince Lillith to marry me.”

  “Would it be all right for John to watch your place, Silas?” Kate raised her eyebrows, her bottom lip held hesitantly between her teeth.

  Though John wouldn’t steal anything and would probably improve his place while he was gone, that didn’t help Silas afford the train ticket. And the bank was closed already. “I can’t get a ticket in time for tonight, maybe tomorrow—”

  “I bought our tickets already.”

  “Our tickets?”

  Dex put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I think we’ll leave you two alone. We’ll wait outside by the cookies. Or rather, the soon-empty plate of cookies.”

  The second they disappeared, Kate put her hands on her hips. “Yes, our tickets. You don’t expect me to stay here, do you?”

  “If people thought it inappropriate for us to search for Anthony together in town, they sure won’t find it appropriate for us to travel together.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not a problem after the reverend marries us. We have an hour.”

  An hour? He swallowed against his tight collar. “Married?”

  “Yes.” She said the word slowly, as if his brain wouldn’t understand otherwise.

  But it wasn’t his brain that was worried—it was his heart. “Anthony could be gone forever, Kate.”

  She shrugged as if that meant nothing.

  “I know you’re hoping he’s in Hartfield, but unlike last time, he has no friends here that we haven’t checked with, so if he’s not with Richard, we might not find him—ever.”

  “And that’s why I haven’t quit praying for the last two days, but why would that keep me from going?”

  Surely she hadn’t thought this through. He straightened, tightening all his muscles to keep him from sagging once she realized what the future likely held. “If he never comes back, Kate, all you’d have is me.”

  She came over, took one of his hands in both of hers, and shook him a little. “I’m not marrying you for Anthony. I’m marrying you because I love you.”

  He blinked.

  “I don’t know enough of Salt Flatts to be of any good here, but I do know Hartfield. And with John at your place, you don’t need me there—not that I know anything about farming. He—”

  “Say that again.”

  She frowned, her right eyebrow raised in question. “John knows more about farming than I do?”

  He swallowed. What if he’d heard her wrong? “No, the part about why you plan to drag me to the altar in a few minutes.”

  “So we can go to Hartfield together?”

  His lungs deflated.

  She put her hand to her cheek. “Or that I love you?”

  “Is that a question?” She hadn’t said she loved him when she’d accepted his proposal.

  “No, it’s the answer.” She shook her head and smiled, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I love you. Anthony or not. But he’ll need both of us when he returns.”

  Silas blew out a shaky breath. Despite the dreary day, a ray of sunshine was trying to break in through the thunderclouds cloaking his soul. He anchored his hands in the crook of her arms. “And if we’re not lucky enough to find him this time?”

  “Then I hope you’ll pray with me every night for God to bring him home. Besides, I don’t feel like worrying about my reputation this time around. If we get married now, there’s no need for anyone to gossip about how much time we spend together.”

  He pushed an errant strand of hair back behind her ear. “You’re really not worried about getting married without Anthony?”

  She flushed prettily. “I said I love you, didn’t I?”

  He let his thumb run across the color in her cheeks and down to her neck, which was just as pink. “A woman’s supposed to fuss over her wedding day. If we’re marrying in an hour, it’ll be nothing more than a recital of vows, with me in mud-splattered trousers and you in your everyday dress.”

  “I run about town in men’s boots, Silas. I think I can handle getting married in plain navy wool.”

  “God love you, Kate, and so do I.” He took her jaw in his hands, pressed a fast kiss to her lips, then swung open the door. “Reverend? We’ve got some marrying to do!” He whistled sharply to stop Will, who was halfway out the door. “Will!”

  His friend turned around and gave him a stern look. Perhaps whistling like he was calling for his dog wasn’t the most appropriate thing to do inside a church. He beckoned him with his hand until Will started back.

  The pastor walked over, scratching his head, his wife following behind him. “You’re doing this now?”

  “Yes, sir.” He walked back in and grabbed Kate’s hand. “We’re doing this now, right?”

  She nodded.

  Will entered the office, a smile tickling his lips. “I suppose I’ll be telling John he’s to watch your place.”

  “Yes.”

  Reverend Finch scrambled through the pile of things on his desk, muttering under his breath about people making up their minds. He pulled out a well-worn book and flipped it open to where the spine was broken. “I suppose there’s no need for frills.”

  Silas looked at Kate again, but she only blinked at the reverend. She might not have been worried about flowers and rings, but surely she had enough feminine attributes to have wanted something more than Reverend Finch’s messy desk as decoration.

  The pastor came around the front to stand by his wife and looked at Silas an uncomfortably long time, though it was likely less than a handful of seconds.

  Then he turned to Kate. “Marriage affects your life more than most anything else in the world. Are you sure this is what you want to do, for reasons beyond making it easier for you to look for the boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “In a few minutes, it’ll be too late to change your mind.”

  She smiled, and something lit her eyes. “My intentions in rega
rds to Silas haven’t changed since the last time you talked to us, before Anthony disappeared.”

  “All right.” The pastor shoved his glasses onto his nose and started with, “Dearly beloved . . .”

  Though Silas tried to keep his focus on the pastor’s words, all he could do was take in Kate’s profile and worry over the amount of fidgeting she was doing, her skirts more than slightly swishing in response to her restless legs. Though she hadn’t moved farther from him, her arms were tense despite him rubbing the back of her hands.

  “. . . if any persons are joined together otherwise as God’s Word doth allow—”

  “Wait a minute.” He pulled Kate to the corner and, taking both her hands, drew her closer. He leaned down to whisper. “I know how badly you wanted to avoid a hasty marriage, and this is the epitome of one. I promise if you back out today, I won’t act like I did earlier. We can figure out something—”

  “No, Silas. I’m fine.”

  He took a pointed look at her legs, still twitching. “You going to tell me you aren’t feeling like you want to run right now?”

  “I don’t want to, it’s just—” She took one of her hands from his to flutter it near her chest. “Nerves. A jumpy energy I can’t seem to control right now.”

  “Maybe your nerves are telling you something.”

  “What about you?” She lifted her eyebrows. “You going to tell me you wouldn’t like a drink right about now?”

  He laughed. “If I were still drinking, that’s exactly what I’d do—but not in front of the preacher.”

  “But you’re not going to go looking for a drink, right?”

  He shook his head.

  “Nor am I going to run.”

  “Did I tell you I love you already?”

  Nodding, she beamed at him and then tugged him toward the others.

  Hand in hand, they walked back in front of the pastor, who’d leaned against his desk as if he expected to sit there all night.

  Will stood beside Reverend Finch, arms crossed, with a stupid grin on his face. Mrs. Finch was looking between the two of them as if she wasn’t sure she shouldn’t speak up and stop the whole thing.

  But there was no reason to stop them at all. “You can continue, Reverend, if you would.”